


Growing Pains

by sophene



Category: Batman (Comics)
Genre: Angst, Bat Brothers, Bat Family, ignoring most of what is happening in the comics tbh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-13
Updated: 2018-11-13
Packaged: 2019-08-23 04:43:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16612187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sophene/pseuds/sophene
Summary: In which Damian starts to grow up and the Bats are terrible at feelings.





	Growing Pains

Tim is the first one who notices.

It’s winter break, so he’s stay at the Manor while school is out of session. He has a full fresh cup of coffee from the kitchen and it’s balanced on top of his laptop, so his attention is focused on it not spilling. It’s a stupid idea, he knows that even as he’s doing it, but for some reason he keeps going.

He’s almost back to the library when he looks up and sees Damian standing in the doorway of his bedroom.

It’s not the first time he’s seen Damian since he got back to the Manor for winter break. It’s not even the first time he’s seen Damian all semester. He’s already noticed that Damian is a lot taller, distressingly taller if Tim is honest about it. Damian’s almost taller than him now.

What he didn’t notice right away were the other side-effects of Damian’s long-awaited growth spurt. His head no longer looks like it’s too large for his body, which Tim always thought but never said out loud because he didn’t want to get stabbed. His cheeks have lost all of their baby softness. He’s not only growing vertically either, but his shoulders and torso seem to be expanding as well. Then there are the other things that were always true but now more noticeable than ever: Damian’s brown skin, glowing with shades of red and bronze in the light streaming in through his bedroom windows. His mother’s full lips, twisted in disdain. Bruce’s intense blue eyes and imperious Wayne eyebrows, darker and sharper and fuller than ever.

The little shit has turned out to be a hottie. Tim always knew it would happen—it was inevitable, given Damian’s parentage—but he can’t say he’s pleased about it.

Tim’s still staring when Damian looks over and catches him. His face was relaxed before, but when he catches Tim looking his expression twists into one of scorn. Once upon a time Tim would’ve called the look a scowl, but now it’s a _smolder_.

“What?” he snaps. His voice is deeper voice than Tim is expecting and Tim flinches, jostling some of the coffee out of his cup and onto the laptop case.

That was almost a Batman voice. For a minute, Tim is too stunned to speak.

Damian misses none of this reaction. He raises an eyebrow and says, “What is wrong with you?”

“Nothing,” Tim says.

“ _Tt!_ Imbecile,” he mutters.

Damian stalks off down the hall and out of sight. Tim, still slightly dazed, shakes his head and takes his coffee and his laptop to the library.

* * *

Later that week, Tim heads down to the kitchen while Alfred is cooking dinner. They chat for a while about the regular stuff before Tim brings it up—in a casual sort of way.

“So. Damian. He’s getting pretty tall.”

Alfred shoots Tim a surprised look and keeps chopping carrots.

“Indeed, Master Timothy,” he says. “Damian has grown so much this year that we have had to replace almost his entire wardrobe, including his Robin suit. I fear the suit will have to be replaced again very soon.”

“Wow,” Tim says, raising his eyebrows.

Tim can remember his own growth spurts, but nothing happened to him that was that drastic. His Robin suit was replaced once, but by the time it was looking like he might need another, Dick went and made Damian Robin instead of him.

“He’s been wanting to be taller forever. I’m sure he’s thrilled,” Tim says.

Alfred nods, but he frowns as well.

“I fear the novelty of being tall has been somewhat overshadowed by some of the other side-effects.”

“What do you mean?” Tim asks. He leans up against the granite countertop, head propped up on one hand.

“The growing pains are considerable, as I am sure you can imagine. He often has difficulty sleeping because of them. He is also hungry constantly. I have caught him in the pantry in the middle of the night several times, eating cereal right out of the box with his bare hands.”

Tim snorts, but Alfred ignores him and goes on.

“He is also rather moody lately. We have been weathering his foul temper for several months.”

“That sounds like normal Damian to me,” Tim says.

Alfred gives Tim one of his unamused over-the-glasses looks.

“I would not provoke him at this time, if I were you, Master Tim. It would be beneath you to kick him while he is down.”

“Yeah, ok. I’ll keep it in mind,” Tim says, and steals a carrot from Alfred’s pile.

“I certainly hope you will,” Alfred says doubtfully. 

* * *

 Somehow it hits social media before it occurs to the rest of the family.

It takes weeks before it happens. Tim goes back to school but has to come back to the Manor again a couple of months later for spring break. Upon arrival, he is disappointed but not surprised to find that Damian is officially taller than him. Rather than lording it over him, however, Damian mostly stays in his room and hardly seems to register Tim’s presence at all.

One night, Dick guilts some of the Batkids into gathering for dinner on a rare uneventful day in Gotham. Damian inhales his food in less than five minutes and is stony and insulting whenever someone tries to engage him in the conversation. They decide to move to one of the manor’s many sitting rooms when the rest of them are done eating, but Damian makes up an excuse to slip away early. Dick is the only one of them who raises objections about this.

They’re in the middle of a debate about which of Gotham’s supervillians have definitely boned  when Stephanie, not even looking up from her phone, says, “Uh oh, Damian is trending on Twitter.”

“What? Why?” Dick asks, frowning.

“Well, not Damian”—she waves her hand—“but, you know, Robin.”

Dick’s frown deepens. “What for?”

“Uh…” she says. She scrolls down on the screen. Her eyebrows shoot up and she says, “Oh damn.”

“Stephanie, you’re making me all kinds of worried over here,” Dick says.

The rest of them start pulling out their phones to look. Tim and Cass are the only ones who don’t—Cass because she is busy slowly unraveling the sleeve of her sweater and Tim because he is a planner. He has several alerts set up for all of their vigilante personas as well as all of their civilian identities, so he knew thirty minutes ago that Twitter was losing its mind over the kid.

Stephanie says, “Ok so I guess somebody snapped a pic while he was doing his thing last night. And the pic has kind of gone viral.”

She turns her phone around and shows them. It’s a grainy snapshot of Damian in his Robin suit, taken from a slight angle. He’s standing in the middle of an intersection with his hood up and his arms crossed in front of his broadening chest. It’s night in the photo, but he’s surrounded by cop cars and fire engines, so he’s lit up by the glow of multi-colored lights. Something about the picture captures every bit of Damian’s recent growth spurts.

Jason reaches across the coffee table and grabs Stephanie’s phone out of her hand.

“Hey!” she says.

“Ok, so it’s kind of a flattering picture of the kid,” Jason says, frowning as he studies the screen. “I don’t get it.”

“You should see the responses,” Duke says, and starts reading one. “‘Why the hell is everyone sleeping on how hot baby bat has gotten lately?’”

Dick looks scandalized. He says, “Someone said that about _Damian_? That’s inappropriate. He’s sixteen.”

“People don’t know that, Dick,” Tim reminds him.

Stephanie throws a pillow at Jason and hisses, “Give me my phone back!”

“Yeah well they should assume,” Dick says to Tim, ignoring the pillow, which almost hit him too. “Barely two years ago he looked like he could be ten. They should assume he’s underage and stop being weird.”

Duke, not looking up from his phone, keeps reading other tweets out loud. “‘Dot dot dot, boy.’ Boy is in all caps. Jeez, these people are so thirsty. One person just responded with a bunch of heart eye emojis. The next one says, ‘Not to be that way but I would let him punch me in the face.’”

“I would let him punch me in the face? What does that even mean?” Dick says.

Tim and Stephanie exchange a look, but they’re spared from having to explain when Duke goes on.

Duke reads, “‘I’m going to hell for saying this, but I think little Robin is hotter than Nightwing. Holy hell when did that happen?’”

Everyone except Cass looks at Dick.

Dick gapes at Duke, not blinking. He crosses his arms, then uncrosses them, then closes his mouth, then opens it again.

“ _Who_ said this?” he finally says, and his voice is a little squawky.

Duke shrugs and says, “I don’t know. Somebody on Twitter.”

“Feel a little threatened, Dickie?” Jason asks.

Dick rolls his eyes and says, “Do you really think I’m that vain? I am not going to get bent out of shape because some loser on the internet—”

Duke interrupts with, “This one says, ‘Agreed. Nightwing is hot but Robin is like dangerous hot, you know?’”

Dick looks like he’s been slapped.

“What the—that’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard,” he says.

Duke gestures at the phone and says, “That’s what it says.”

Meanwhile, Tim notices that Jason’s mouth is curling into an evil toothy grin. He’s still scrolling through Twitter on Stephanie’s phone in spite of the fact that he has his own phone in his other hand.

“It looks like there is a debate going on right now about which Bat is the hottest. Things are neck and neck between Nightwing and Robin on the poll,” Jason says, cackling. The cackle is cut off short, however, and he says, “I’m coming in fourth! That’s bullshit!”

Tim does not get out his phone to look. He did not see the poll when he saw the Robin photo earlier, but he is well aware of where he tends to fall on the hotness scale compared to the other Bats. He has had years of his life to get over it.

“The hood covers your face, Jay. You aren’t going to get votes if people can’t see your face,” Dick reminds him.

“Yeah, but the rest of me is grade A,” Jason says.

Stephanie snorts and mutters, “Hardly.”

“Laugh it up, Blondie, you aren’t even an option,” Jason says.

“What?” she yells. She gets up and snatches her phone out of Jason’s hand. She checks to see if Jason is telling the truth, then throws the phone down on the couch. Pointing at it, she says, “ _That_ is the bullshit! I am Spoiler! I was Batgirl in an alternate timeline!”

“Not in this timeline though,” Jason says.

“What about me?” Duke asks. “Am I included?”

“No! Just Cass, Damian, Barbara, and these three,” Stephanie says, waving a hand at Tim, Dick, and Jason.

“What? That’s not fair! Why aren’t we on there?” Duke says.

“Do you really want to be on there?” Tim asks.

Duke looks at him like he is the crazy one and says, “Yes.”

“What do you want to be on?” Bruce asks.

They all flinch and Steph makes a little “Ha!” noise of surprise.

Bruce has somehow appeared behind them. His hair is wet and he’s obviously fresh off patrol. His sneaking up on people instincts are much more intense when he’s just come back from being Batman.

“Dude,” Jason says. “Don’t do that.”

Nobody answers Bruce’s question. The others are guiltily putting their phones away, as if that can make the question disappear. Tim sighs internally.

“Robin is currently trending on Twitter,” he tells Bruce.

Bruce frowns and says, “What for?”

“Uh...somebody took a picture of him when he was out on patrol the other night. It’s a flattering picture I guess,” Tim says.

Bruce’s frown deepens.

“Let me see,” he says, and holds out his hand.

The others look around at each other, playing a nonverbal game of Not It. Tim, however, is an intellectual. He knows that the man who carries around a chip of kryptonite just in case his best friend goes berserk definitely has hacked any and all devices belonging to his kids/vigilante partners. So Tim pulls his phone out of his back pocket and finds the Tweet for Bruce, then reaches over the back of the couch and hands the device to him.

Bruce takes it and glowers down at it as he inspects the photo. When he scrolls through the user’s feed and responses, and Tim is pretty sure everyone stops breathing.

“‘He is a snack’?” Bruce says. “What does that mean?”

Stephanie’s face drains of all color, and Duke’s eyes get very wide.

Tim decides to handle it the way he would if he was giving Bruce a report about a mission that went bad—with no emotion whatsoever.

“It means they think he is attractive,” Tim tells him.

Bruce stares at Tim, then glances down at the phone. The temperature in the room seems to drop ten degrees.

“Robin is underage,” he says.

“Yeah, that’s what Dick said, but people on the internet don’t know that. They should probably assume, but...the internet,” Tim says, shrugging.

Bruce studies screen for another terrible moment. Then he hands the phone back to Tim and walks out of the sitting room without a word.

When he’s gone, Steph and Duke exchange winces. Dick looks like he’s happy Bruce is on the problem and Jason gets his phone back out so he can go back to sulking about being in fourth place. Cass has one sleeve of her sweater unraveled all the way to her wrist.

“So do you think he’s going to like, go get back in his suit and find the person who posted the picture on Twitter in the first place?” Steph asks.

“Hm,” Dick says. “She would deserve it for objectifying a sixteen year-old kid.”

Tim just sighs and gets up to go make some coffee. 

* * *

A few days later there’s a crisis with Scarecrow and all of Batman’s partners get called in. They gather in the Batcave and put on their suits, and when Damian arrives there’s a definite shift in the mood.

Tim acts the same, and Cass acts the same, but the others are circling and staring at Damian like he’s some strange new species. Duke stands a little bit straighter than usual, and Stephanie looks at the top of Damian’s head, and then over at Tim, as if she’s just noticing that Tim is shorter now. Dick is staring at Damian with a slightly puzzled look on his face, and Jason has his eyes narrowed at Damian while he cleans one of his guns. Barbara’s inspection is a little more academic, but even she is staring.

Damian notices all of this and doesn’t seem very happy about it, but doesn’t say anything.

There’s a fair chance that a lot of Damian’s unhappiness is discomfort, Tim can tell. They all wear skin-tight suits, but Damian’s suit is so tight that it looks like it’s squeezing the air out of him, and he winces as he shoves his boots on. He’s going to need _another_ new suit and new boots soon. He’s also growing Bruce’s five o’clock shadow.

Jason is still taller than Damian—for now—and takes advantage of it.

“I don’t know, kid,” he says, tapping the stubble on Damian’s face. “Can you be Robin anymore if you’re growing a beard? Maybe you should trade suits with Tim.”

Damian gives Jason a murderous look and Tim says, “Ha ha.”

“Leave them alone,” Dick says.

Bruce returns to the cave then and the conversation is immediately dropped. Thank god.

Bruce explains the mission to them and splits them into teams. Dick and Jay get teamed up with Duke, and Steph with Barbara. That means—

“Robin, you, Orphan, and Red Robin will be the team entering the hospital from the old emergency wing,” Bruce says.

Damian scowls over at Tim, but his only verbal complaint is, “ _Tt_.”

Bruce ignores this and pushes a button on the Batcomputer. Blueprints of the hospital come up and Bruce explains where the teams will enter, what direction they need to go, and what their objectives are. Tim, Cass, and Damian get the easy part of the mission. All they have to do is find Scarecrow’s lab, take samples of whatever toxins he’s been cooking up lately, and bring the samples back to the Batcave so Bruce can examine them.

“I expect all of you to wear your gas masks the entire time you are in the hospital. Understood?” he asks.

Everyone nods.

“Good,” he says. “Go now. We can’t afford to waste anymore time.”

So the teams split up into their groups, double check their equipment, and head to the hospital.

Tim always enjoys working with Cass. She’s quiet, efficient, and brutal. He doesn’t feel the need to worry about her as much as some of the others and he knows she has his back. As vigilantes go, she’s pretty much the whole package.

Tim’s not sure how this mission with Damian will go, but it turns out that Damian is still not particularly interested in acknowledging Tim’s existence. As they near the hospital, Tim reminds them to be careful. Cass smiles, and Damian rolls his eyes before he puts on his gas mask. There’s no talking after that.

They sneak into the building through a second floor window and start making their way through the dark corridors of the hospital. The building has only been abandoned for three years, but it looks like it’s been wasting away for at least a decade.

Tim hasn’t worked closely with Damian since the growth spurt, and one thing becomes obvious right away: Damian is not used to the new size of his body.

His huge feet bang into things they shouldn’t. He doesn’t fit through narrow spaces the way he used to and one of his too-tight boots is making an ungodly squeaking noise. Whenever they hear something and have to stop and hide, at least one part of him is sticking out or visible somehow. Damian’s mouth settles into a sharp frown, so Tim knows he’s frustrated. Tim wants to be understanding, but the other part of him that is focused on the mission can’t help but be a little exasperated every time he bumps into something. From the way that Cass keeps tossing glances at Damian over her shoulder, Tim can tell she feels the same way. This is supposed to be the stealth part of the mission and Damian has never been less capable of being stealthy in his life. It’s a risk, and Bats don’t do unnecessary risks.

They somehow manage to reach the part of the building where Bruce said Crane’s lab would be without drawing attention to themselves. Cass is in the lead, Damian in the middle, and Tim is bringing up the rear. Cass peaks around a corner and waves them down a dark hallway where electrical wires, broken light fixtures, and rotting tiles are coming down from the ceiling.

The moment comes when Damian, bending down to duck under one of the low-hanging light fixtures, unbends too fast, too soon. Tim lunges and grabs Damian by the hood in the split second before Damian’s head collides with the metal, yanks him back down and pulls him out of the way.

Damian looks back at Tim, then back up at the light fixture, then jerks his hood and his body out from Tim’s grasp.

They can’t speak to each other with the gas masks on, so Damian just stomps on after Cass. But Tim resigns himself to the fact that he’s definitely going to hear about it later. 

* * *

 Their part of the mission, at least, is a success. Cass, Damian, and Tim make it back to the Batcave with the samples of Scarecrow’s new toxins and Tim’s almost positive they weren’t even caught on camera. The next thing he was supposed to do was begin the process of analyzing their chemical makeup, but Damian is still yelling at him when the rest of the Bats return.

“I do not require your assistance on missions, Drake!”

“You were going to give away our position, Damian,” Tim says. “I was only trying to get us in and out of the hospital with the samples like we were supposed to.”

“I was fine! I have been training for missions like this since I was a child!” Damian says. “You cannot even pray to keep up with me!”

Logically Tim knows that this is Damian he is talking to, but the animal part of his brain is having a hard time understanding that the gigantic person looming over and bellowing at him isn’t Bruce. He wishes someone would intervene, instead of standing around gawking.

“I know you’re skilled,” Tim says, keeping his voice calm and measured. “I have every faith in your abilities. I saw the light fixture and thought you were getting up too fast. I didn’t want Crane—”

Damian shakes his head and says, “You have never considered me to be your equal! You are always looking for an opportunity to prove that you’re better than me! I am not going to stand for having my capabilities disregarded—”

“I am not disregarding your capabilities!”

“You are, and you don’t even have the right to claim—”

“ _Robin!_ ” Bruce yells.

Damian, eyes still flashing with rage, turns to face his father.

“What is going on here?” Bruce asks.

Damian shoots a nasty look at Tim and says, “Drake somehow still thinks that I am incompetent, even though I have spent years—”

Tim rolls his eyes and says, “That’s not what happened—”

“Stop it!” Bruce snaps. “One of you at a time. Tim, explain.”

Tim wishes the rest of the Bats would leave, instead of standing around gawking.

“We were making our way through the hospital when we came across a part of a hallway where one of the light fixtures was coming out of the ceiling and hanging too low. We ducked under it, but I saw that Damian was getting up too fast, so I pulled him down to keep him from hitting it and giving away our position. That’s it.”

Damian starts to say, “I wasn’t—” but then Bruce gives him a look, and he stops talking. He crosses his arms over his chest and glares.

“You are all expected to look after each other in the field,” Bruce says. “Mistakes are inevitable, no matter how skilled anyone is. I would have thought that you would be mature enough to understand that by now, Damian.”

Damian gives his father a murderous look and leaves to change out of his suit.

“Don’t the rest of you have things to do?” Bruce snaps at the other kids. As if in a daze, they turn around and depart to go put up their suits and clean their equipment. Jason puts his helmet back on and he, Batgirl, and Nightwing go back out to patrol some more.

When the rest of them are busy, Bruce joins Tim in the lab.

“What really happened?” Bruce asks him, his voice low.

“Exactly what I told you,” Tim says. “Damian’s growing too fast. He doesn’t understand how tall he is now.”

Bruce considers this for a moment and says, “I see.”

“Also, he needs new boots. One of them is too tight and it was squeaking,” Tim says.

Bruce frowns, but nods, and wanders off. Tim puts his gas mask back on and finally, finally, is allowed to work on the fear toxins. 

 * * *

It soon becomes obvious that except for Alfred, Tim, and Cass, no one is handling Damian’s changes very well.

The debate about which Bat is the hottest gets restarted every time a new picture of Robin gets posted on social media. Duke and Steph are triumphant when they finally end up on one of the polls, then sulk for days when they end up in sixth and seventh place, respectively. Jason starts redesigning his mask to show more of his face. Fortunately, Roy talks him out of it.

Has anyone bothered to ask Damian what he thinks about all of this talk about his hotness on the internet? Tim doubts it, but judging from the permanent glare Damian seems to walk around with lately, Tim’s guessing he’s not a fan.

Even Dick is behaving terribly, though Tim supposes this has more to do with an internal crisis over the fact that Damian is growing up rather than insecurity over Damian being hotter than him. One night at a Wayne Enterprises event Dick spends most of the evening dragging Damian around and introducing him to people as his “adorable baby brother.” He spends the rest telling embarrassing stories about things Damian did when he was younger, and Damian is so furious afterwards that he doesn’t speak to Dick for two weeks.

Even Bruce is bungling the issue. One day Tim wanders into the Batcave after patrol and catches Alfred trying to convince Bruce not to send Damian to California. Tim decides to invite himself into the conversation.

“I’m sorry, but why would you send Damian to California?” Tim asks.

Bruce looks over at Tim and says, “After you showed me that photograph on social media, I realized that someone could connect Damian’s rate of growth with Robin’s and discover his identity. Damian should go away for a while, until I can think of a way to explain why Robin and Damian always seem to be the exact same height.”

Tim loves Bruce, but sometimes the man says the most unbelievable bullshit.

“No, no, do not do that,” Tim says, shaking his head. “That is a very bad idea.”

“I am afraid I wholeheartedly agree with Master Timothy,” Alfred says severely.

Bruce peers up at the two of them, uncomprehending.

“I don’t understand. You agree that someone could make the connection,” he says.

“You’re right, someone could make the connection. But I also happen to think that sending Damian away when he has no control over what his body is doing is only going to make him...well, more of a terror than he already is lately,” Tim says.

“Have there been problems with his behavior lately?” Bruce asks, looking up at Alfred.

 _Jesus_ , Tim thinks.

“Our Damian has always been a touch prideful when it comes to his abilities as Robin, but his recent changes have made things…difficult,” Alfred says. “What Timothy is attempting to convey is that if you send Damian away, he will interpret it as a punishment. He has done nothing wrong and does not deserve to be sent away. Also, he is weathering a tumultuous period of his life and is having difficulty managing his temper. The last thing he needs is less supervision, Master Bruce.”

Tim, instead of chiming in, just points at Alfred.

“I see,” Bruce says, frowning.

“Maybe give him more stealth missions,” Tim says. “Keep both Damian and Robin out of the public eye for now, if you can. But do _not_ send him to California.”

Bruce looks between the two of them, and for a minute Tim thinks he’s going to keep arguing. But he just nods and says, “I’ll think about it.”

Then he wanders off to go do something else. As soon as he’s gone, Alfred pats Tim on the arm.

“I am very proud of you, Master Timothy,” he says.

Tim frowns at him and says, “Me? What for?”

But Alfred doesn’t give him an answer, and also leaves to go do something else. 

* * *

The school year ends, and Tim moves back into the manor for the summer.

Tim soon learns that Damian has picked up his insomniac tendencies. One June night around 4 a.m., Tim gives up on sleeping and makes his way to the Batcave to work on a case only to get down there and find that Damian is there too. He’s fighting one of Bruce’s training bots, and judging from the amount of sweat that has soaked through his shirt, Tim guesses he’s been at it for a while.

Damian gives Tim a dirty look as he comes down into the cave, so Tim gives him a wide berth and goes to the Batcomputer to work. The car is gone, so Bruce is out. There should be no one to disturb him on the computer for a while.

Eventually, though, it becomes difficult to ignore Damian’s grunts of pain or the blaring of the bot every time Damian loses a match. He tries to focus on his case, he really does—there’s no reason for him to get involved, the brat’s hardly ever been tolerant of him. And yet.

The alarm blares yet again and Tim hears Damian swear.

Tim can’t ignore it anymore. He gets up and goes to the sparring level, watches as Damian gets back into his stance and says, “Start.” The bot charges at him.

The first problem is evident right away. The bots have several difficulty settings, and Damian has the thing set on its highest level. Trying to fight one of the bots at the highest difficulty level is like trying to fight Bane with two broken arms. Even Batman struggles with them at that level.

Tim watches as Damian gets punched in the face, the ribs, and then swept off his feet, and then says, “End program,” before the bot can attack again.

The bot folds back up into its sleep mode and shuts off. Damian wipes sweat off his cheek and glares up at him.

“I did not require your interference, Drake,” he says.

“What is you getting your ass handed to you proving exactly?” Tim asks.

“There can be no improvement unless I am challenged,” Damian says. “I do not want to become satisfied with mediocrity like you have.”

Tim doesn’t roll his eyes. He thinks this is very patient and brotherly of him. Instead he walks the rest of the way down to the sparring level and says, “Ok. Then beat me.”

“What?”

Tim shrugs and says, “Then beat me. If I am so mediocre then it should be easy. Hand to hand combat, no weapons.”

Damian gives him an annoyed look, but Tim issued a challenge and he can’t ignore it. They get into their stances.

It’s shocking how quickly the first fight is over. In no time Tim has Damian pinned to the ground, his face mushed against the mat. It’s so bizarre that Tim doesn’t even feel a little bit compelled to be smug about it.

“Again,” Tim says.

With a roar of rage, Damian gets up.

They go for several more rounds. Sometimes Damian manages to get a lucky hit in, but Tim wins every time.

Finally, after the sixth or seventh win, Damian snarls and throws a water bottle at him. Tim dodges it easily.

“What is _this_ proving?” Damian demands.

“Just figuring something out,” Tim says. “Let’s go again.”

Eventually, the second problem becomes obvious. Tim fights Damian the way he does when he practices with Jason, who is much larger opponent. But Damian is still fighting with Tim the way that he would when Tim was the larger opponent. He evades when he should be using his size to his advantage. He tries to dodge, but he doesn’t dodge fast enough. He ducks, but he doesn’t duck low enough. He tries to get fancy with the acrobatics when he should be charging at Tim like an enraged bull.

In short: Damian’s fighting like Robin, when he should be fighting more like Batman. Again and again, Tim uses Damian’s weight and height against him.

Damian lunges at him, going low, and Tim uses the wall behind him to flip right over Damian’s crouched body. He delivers a quick jab to the back of Damian’s knee before Damian can turn around, and hardly has to duck at all when Damian swings his elbow back.

“Stand up straight when you’re charging at an opponent,” Tim tells him. “Make yourself a larger obstacle. Don’t give me the opportunity to get around or over you.”

Damian snarls a curse at him, but the fight continues.

“ _Lower_ , Damian,” Tim says, when Damian tries to duck out of the way of a punch, but doesn’t duck low enough.

The fight continues in this fashion for some time—Tim occasionally calling out instructions and Damian swearing at him and snapping about how he doesn’t need Tim’s subpar help, but for some reason still not just walking away.

At last Damian manages to hit him hard enough to make his nose bleed and Tim nearly takes Damian’s arm out of its socket, and they’re finally too tired and sore to continue. They’re laying on the sparring mats in a pool of blood and sweat when Bruce finally returns from his patrol.

Batman doesn’t look very good himself—he smells singed and there’s ash coated all over the exposed half of his face—but he stops on the sparring level and says, “What’s going on here?”

“Just practicing,” Tim says, when Damian doesn’t say anything.

Bruce just _hmm_ s like he doesn’t believe them, but continues up to shower. 

* * *

It becomes something of a nightly routine. The pain from the growth spurts are apparently still keeping Damian up at night, and Tim’s never been great at sleeping. Tim doesn’t know why he’s bothering to help Damian, but he tells himself it’s never a waste of time to fight a skilled opponent.

Damian struggles for the first couple of weeks, even when he’s not already exhausted from fighting one of the bots. Tim continues calling out instructions when Damian makes a mistake, and is mystified every time when he doesn’t get stabbed.

Eventually he calls Jason and asks him to come over and fight Damian.

“I’m sorry, but you want me to what?” Jason asks.

“Damian needs to practice fighting larger opponents now that he is a larger fighter himself,” Tim says. “He can’t just fight with me all the time.”

“You’re telling me you want me to come over there and help make him more lethal than he already is? How the fuck does that make any sense, Timbo?” Jason asks.

“I’ll build you a new computer if you do it,” Tim says.

Jason scoffs and says, “Like I’d accept a computer from you.” He mutters something else about spyware that Tim doesn’t fully catch, but agrees to come over sometime next week.

Jason’s kind of an asshole about it, and Tim can see the pure loathing on Damian’s face every time Jason beats him. But just like with Tim, Damian doesn’t walk away from the fight. When Jason comes over a few times after that and fights with Damian again, Tim does build him a computer, and Jason accepts it, spyware and all.

Eventually it becomes kind of a thing between all of the kids. Damian keeps getting taller and since his appetite is insatiable, he keeps packing on the muscle. He gets so close to Bruce’s height and weight that fighting him is kind of like fighting Batman. Stephanie howls with delight when she beats him, but Damian makes up for it by beating her twice in a row before she can manage to beat him again. Barb and Damian fight one time, and she kicks his ass so thoroughly and so fast that Tim has to go watch the security camera footage in slow motion to understand how it happened. Duke and Damian fight once and somehow immediately give each other concussions. Damian loses two thirds of his fights with Jason, and can’t quite seem to get the upper hand against Cass (none of them can). He wins about half of his fights with Tim, but since Tim loses on purpose a lot in order to teach Damian something, he’s not worried about it.

Of all of them, Dick is the only one who refuses to fight Damian. Tim can’t say he was expecting Dick to want to fight Damian, but what he didn’t expect at all was the suspicion. Dick corners Tim on top of a church when he’s out on patrol one night and makes it very clear that he is suspicious.

“I just don’t understand why you’re doing it,” Dick says.

Tim shrugs and says, “What’s to understand?”

“You and Damian have been, at worst, openly hostile to each other, and at best, tolerant. What do you get out of fighting him?”

“Not much I guess, unless you count exercise and practice,” Tim says.

“That’s the part that I don’t get,” Dick says. He looks awkward and doesn’t meet Tim’s eyes when he says, “People haven’t exactly been nice to you, lately. Every time a new picture of Robin ends up on the internet, for some reason they also feel the need to start discussing you.”

“I know,” Tim says.

“So doesn’t it bother you?” Dick asks.

“It’s happening to all of us. Does it bother me anymore than it bothers any of the others?” Tim asks.

“It doesn’t seem like it. Sometimes it seems like it doesn’t bother you at all. And you aren’t really discussed the way the rest of us are.”

Tim sighs and says, “Because they’re just jokes. Do I have to explain to you what a meme is? Most of the people who say that stuff don’t mean it.”

“Does that mean I’m supposed to like it?”

“You don’t have to like it, but it just is what it is,” Tim says.

“Are you sure all of this helping Damian isn’t some sort of backwards way of proving yourself to the rest of us?”

Tim frowns at Dick and goes around him. It’s not that it doesn’t bother him, really. Objectively he knows he’s not actually ugly. Short and skinnier than the other Bats, sure, but not ugly. A lot of the people who call him things like “the disaster Bat” turn around and talk about how much they love him. What bothers him more than the implications that he’s ugly is being turned into a joke. He also knows the internet is a strange creature that cannot really be fought. All he can do is ignore the jokes and focus on what he’s good at.

“Fighting with Damian isn’t about anything except helping him,” Tim says, with a note of finality in his voice. “I saw a problem so I am doing what I can to fix the problem.” It’s what he’s always done.

“Red Robin—”

“Can you go now?” Tim asks him. “I am supposed to be patrolling.”

When he gets out his grappling gun and swings away, Dick doesn’t follow him.

The conversation with Dick nags at him for a while, but it’s almost possible to forget it when he realizes that Damian is acting like his old self again. Tim didn’t even realize how unlike himself he was acting until Damian is back to being terrible.

“More and more I struggle to understand why Father ever wasted his time on you, Drake,” Damian says, smirking over Tim after he wins a fight.

Tim stays on the ground and tries to rub the pain out of his shoulder. He looks up at Damian through his bangs and says, “Has anyone ever told you that you have a terrible personality?”

“That means very little, coming from you,” Damian says.

“Yeah, yeah,” Tim says. “Keep gloating, Brat. We’ll see if you get that lucky again.”

“You are hardly a worthy opponent. I am sure I will be victorious,” Damian says.

For the first time, there isn’t a part of Tim that’s offended, even a little bit.

Tim gets up and they fight again. Tim wins, and it’s his turn to gloat. 

* * *

The summer winds down to an end, and Tim goes back to school.

Although part of him is glad to be back at school and away from Alfred’s fussing about cleanliness, there are things he misses about the Manor. Everything else about Alfred, aside from his fussiness. He got used to being able to go work on the Batcomputer almost whenever he wanted to. He misses playing video games with Duke and fighting with Cass over the last of the best cereal at breakfast. The guys in his dorm have no idea about his nightlife, and he gets scoffed at by his more ambitious classmates when he runs out of time to do an assignment or accidentally sleeps through a lecture because he was out too late being Red Robin. He has some friends on campus, but it’s different. Not bad exactly, but it’s not wonderful either.

The worst part, however, is spending the earliest hours of the morning doing homework and working on research papers instead of sparring with Damian. It surprises him to realize that he misses that the most. Deep down, in a part of his brain he can scarcely bear to admit exists, he worries that Damian will go back to treating Tim the way he did before—the way he did when he was younger and tinier and a lot more hostile.

Three weeks into the semester, Bruce calls him and asks for his assistance. He needs eyes on an abandoned apartment building where Black Mask is potentially hoarding weapons, but he’s distracted by a Riddler problem and can’t do it himself. All of the other kids are busy with other problems or cases.

“Can you do it? I wouldn’t ask unless it was of the utmost importance,” he says.

Tim says yes, even though he has three papers due next week and a test on Friday afternoon. He emails his professors a fake story about a family emergency and leaves for the selected stakeout spot, which turns out to be a vacant office in the building across the street from Black Mask’s abandoned apartment building.

Damian arrives a couple of hours after he does. He’s wearing a new Robin suit, but doesn’t seem to be any taller than when Tim last saw him. Thank god.

“What are you doing here?” Tim asks him.

“Father was lying to you when he said that all of the rest of us were busy. He refused to send me alone because he still doesn’t trust me to be able to handle a case alone,” Damian says.

Tim frowns and says, “So what are you doing here now?”

But Damian just shrugs and doesn’t answer.

So they stand silently, arms crossed over their chests, staring out of the window at the dark apartment building next door.

Tim has never considered himself to be a chatty sort of person, but after a while of this, the silence starts to feel pointed.

He glances at Damian out of the corner of his eye. Damian is staring straight ahead, eyes hidden behind the white eyes of his mask. His biceps look even more gigantic when they’re crossed over his chest.

It is perhaps a terrible idea when he says, “You know, Red Hood was right about one thing. You look like a frat boy in a Halloween costume right now.”

Damian turns slightly and looks down at him.

“If you think that insulting me will convince me to stand down and let you be Robin again—”

“No thanks, I’m good,” Tim says.

“ _Tt_ ,” Damian says.

Silence falls again, and they could go back to not talking at all, but Tim isn’t ready to do that yet.

“Have you been practicing?” he asks.

Damian huffs and says, “I have had to go back to fighting with the bots every night. They are no substitution for a human opponent, but they suffice. I can last a whole minute on the highest difficulty setting now.”

He turns to Tim and grins, and Tim says, “That’s good.”

“Sometimes Spoiler and The Signal spar with me. Orphan is often too busy, but she will as well, when she has time.”

“I’m glad,” Tim says.

And he really is, because it appears that they are fine. Damian didn’t suddenly wake up one morning while Tim was gone and decide to hate him again. Satisfied, Tim turns to the window and refocuses all of his attention on the apartment building.

He’s only watching for another minute or two when Damian says, “I am sure you are relieved to be back at your university again.”

Tim glances at him.

“I do like college, most of the time,” Tim says. “My classes are interesting. Living in the dorms sucks. I think I am going to get a place off campus next semester.”

There’s a pause, and then Damian asks, “Why would you do this?”

“It’s hard to be a vigilante and live around a bunch of people who are all up until 3 a.m. drinking or studying. I’ve found a few places off campus that are private enough.”

“So if you do find a place to live off campus, that would mean you would not be returning for the winter holidays or the summer as you did last year?”

“I know, your dream come true,” Tim says wryly.

Damian doesn’t say anything. Tim sees a hint of movement down on the corner of the street next to the apartment building, and pulls out his binoculars to get a closer look. But it’s just a stray cat.

“It was suggested to me,” Damian says, and pauses. “That is, Pennyworth may have mentioned that you spent considerable time assisting me while I was going through a…difficult personal matter.”

Tim looks at him and says, “Difficult personal matter? We are talking about your growth spurt, right?”

Damian’s shoulders tighten slightly. Tim waits, but he doesn’t say anything.

“I was surprised by how you handled it, honestly. You’ve been wanting to be taller forever. I figured you’d be bragging nonstop, but you just hid in your room all the time.”

“There were aspects that I could not have foreseen. The pain was near constant,” Damian says.

Tim nods and says, “Agent A told me.”

“And there were the reactions of individuals on the internet. They began to speak of me in a way which I found degrading,” Damian goes on.

“I know,” Tim says. “I saw.”

“I have never cared about something as vain as my personal appearance. I am a vigilante, trained first by the League of Assassins, and then to fight at my father’s side. We have all been trained for this purpose, to fight in my father’s war. I did not realize until it was happening to me that you and the others dealt with being discussed in such a way. That anyone would do so is an insult to the symbol we wear.”

“I know,” Tim says. “And yet.” He shrugs as if to say, The Internet.

“And then there were the reactions of…the others. Everyone was treating me differently, when all I wanted was to be treated the same. I still do not understand why they were treating me as they were. Nightwing in particular.”

Tim sighs and says, “Because you’re growing up. Because it…changes things. You’re so much like Batman, and you always were, but now it’s even harder to ignore than ever. It made some of them feel threatened. And Nightwing…well, there’s a part of him that’s always going to think of you as his tiny baby brother. He just needs time.”

Damian doesn’t say anything.

“I’ll be honest, I had a hard time getting over it at first too,” Tim goes on. “The Signal is younger than me and he’s also already taller than me. I don’t want to be the tiny one, but I guess that’s just a reality I have to live with.”

There’s another long pause, and Tim thinks maybe the conversation is over.

Then Damian says, “I found the way that you were discussed on the internet to be particularly offensive. People should not rank us against each other in the first place, but if they must, then they should endeavor to be more accurate. They talk as if you are repulsive. Your personality leaves much to be desired, but you are hardly as disgusting as people pretend that you are. If anyone should be at the bottom of the list, it should be Red Hood or Spoiler.”

Tim knows that he should be paying attention to the mission, but he still turns around and faces Damian.

“Did you just compliment me in some weird backwards way?” he asks.

“I said your personality leaves much to be desired and that you are hardly disgusting,” Damian says.

Tim _hmms_ and turns back to look at the building, a small smile tugging at his lips.

“Coming from the hot one, that means a lot,” Tim says.

Damian glares at him.

“I do not approve of those polls and refuse to acknowledge their existence beyond this conversation,” he says.

Tim laughs and says, “Ignore what people say on the internet, Robin. Most people don’t mean it, they’re just trying to be funny.”

Robin scowls and says, “None of us should be turned into a joke. What we do is not funny.”

Tim says, “No, you’re right. It’s not.”

After that it’s quiet for a while. The conversation really is over, Tim thinks. But that’s just what he thinks.

Damian says, in a hesitant sort of way, “I…would not find it terrible if you did decide to continue living in the dormitory at your university for a while.”

“Oh?” Tim says.

“The bots are helpful, but as I said, they do not compare to human opponents.”

Tim smiles and says, “I’ll keep that in mind.”

There’s more movement on the street down below, so Tim gets out his binoculars again and takes another look. He doesn’t see anything, so he keeps looking. He may need to turn on one of Bruce’s drones and send it into the building for a closer inspection.

Suddenly there’s something on his head, patting his hair. Tim smacks at whatever it is, and makes contact with Damian’s arm.

He gives Damian a mystified look.

“Did you just pat me on the head?” Tim asks.

Damian doesn’t take his eyes off the building across the street, but can’t help himself from smiling.

“You are very tiny,” Damian says.

“Oh yeah? How long have you been wanting to do that?” Tim asks.

But Damian just shrugs and doesn’t answer. _Unbelievable_ , Tim thinks. He shakes his head and lifts his binoculars again.

Sometimes he really hates this family.

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally supposed to be funny but I lost control and bellyflopped right into angst :)


End file.
